Hedge Doctor's Orders
by GryfoTheGreat
Summary: Because completely ceasing use of a drug you've been taking for more than ten years is an absolutely stellar idea, right? (No. Not at all.) Female Mage Lavellan & Cullen Rutherford, pre-relationship.


**A/N:** Asarla's back story is ridiculously complicated; she has lived in an Alienage, the Circle and Tevinter and spent several years on the run before reluctantly joining the Dalish, but that's about all you need to know for now.

* * *

When he tells her that he has stopped taking lyrium, he expects approval. Asarla has made her opinion clear on Templars, mind-altering substances, and combinations thereof; in her words, _'kill it with fire.'_

"No lyrium ever again."

"Yes."

"You gave it up all at once."

"Yes."

"And how long have you been taking it?"

"...Twelve years, give or take?"

"You _idiot_." The lightning that accompanies her always crackles madly along her skin, fluffing her hair into a halo. "You Maker-damned fool! Do you want to die? Do you know what happens when you go into lyrium withdrawal?"

"I have a general idea." The longest he has gone without it is seven days, back in Kinloch Hold. The memories are fractured and strange, so he ignores them, as he always does.

"I have a specific one." In her fury, she steps closer, large elven eyes darker than their usual soot brown. "When I was in Tevinter, I studied lyrium. They made me watch a man die from lyrium overdose, and made me watch another die from withdrawal. He shook. He _screamed_. He tore his shoulder open with his teeth, cried and sobbed and puked and never slept, and ripped the arm off a mage while still in chains. Towards the end he became as a child, and let us press hot brands to him without complaint, having lost all sensation; in his final moments, he became lucid, and asked me to slit his throat. So I did." Her fist smacks into the door-frame. "I shall not do the same to you, Commander. If you go ahead with this asinine plan I will not give you the mercy of a quick death?."

"What would you have me do?" In the face of her rage, his own grows. "I have been beholden to this... this _substance_ since I was little more than a boy! I do not wish to die a babbling old man in some backwater Chantry, Inquisitor. Do not push me to that!"

"I won't. No, Commander; if you die it will be on my terms." The electricity sizzles around her fingers, but, after a long, tense moment, it dissipates. "Keep taking it."

"What? But you-" Anger bubbles up in his throat, blocking his words in a way it has not done in years. What is it about her that turns him into a teenaged wreck?

"Commander, _listen_ to me. Leave me in charge of your lyrium doses. You will continue to take it, but in gradually smaller amounts. Your system will adjust to the lowered dosage until eventually you will be taking nothing at all. No dreams, no shaking, no memory loss. It will take time, but you will have your mind back, I promise you." Her jaws tips back, defiant.

"Inquisitor... I..." It is obvious, when he thinks about it. A foolish idea, to go off it completely; this is a far better alternative. There is no risk of him being crippled by withdrawal symptoms, and so Cassandra will not have to worry over him, which is good; she needs less things to worry about.

"That is that, then?" Not waiting for an answer, she hurries on, thoughts spilling from her mouth. "I must go talk to Cassandra, I believe she handles the lyrium, or at least, I _hope_ she does; Leliana will be a nightmare to get through, she'd never let a mage near that much lyrium. She would be afraid that I might explode. Perhaps Dorian..." She catches Cullen's appalled look and shakes her head. "On second thoughts, I'd rather not involve him. He might get too technical and give you some... unwanted additions."

"Thank the Maker for small mercies." He slumps down behind his desk, as exhausted as he always is after her. "My sincere thanks, Inquisitor. I am glad of your support in this, as in everything." His smile sends her reeling, ears twitching comically.

"I... of course, Commander. Good day." She makes to leave, but halts at his cry.

"You forgot..." He picks up his box of lyrium with the relief of Andraste carved on the front, and hands it to her. "I believe it might help."

She looks at it for a long second, trailing her fingers along the embossed woodwork. "Yes, you are right." A pause. "Did you...?"

He nods, and feels his ears redden.

"It is beautiful work, for what it is." Her head whips up. "If this whole dashing commander of armies thing does not work out, you would make a fine carpenter."

He snorts, and waves her away. "Goodbye, Inquisitor."

"Goodbye, Commander." And with that she slips away into the night, box in hand.

* * *

From that day on, she personally delivers his doses to him, often accompanied by a cup of tea, or some still-warm bread, or whatever is ripest from the gardens. He almost does not notice the lyrium dwindling until suddenly, several months after their conversation, he opens the box and not a speck of lyrium is inside.

"Is that it?" He meets her eyes, framed as she is by the door.

"Yes. Congratulations, Commander." The corner of her lip curls up. "You're clean."

He lowers the box and stares, a delighted smile spreading across his face, and sends a brief prayer up to Andraste for Asarla. "Maker, I could almost kiss you right now."

She coughs, one ear wiggling slightly. "Almost. Um. How do you feel?"

"Jubilant? Clear headed? Euphoric? Inquisitor, I owe you beyond comprehension."

"As do I." She takes the box and snaps it shut. "May I... May I keep this? As a memento, simply. I have grown used to it, these past few months."

"Of course. I can never repay you; this is the very least I can do."

"Cullen," and he freezes at the sound of his name on her tongue, as if it were the most natural thing in the world; "It was in my interest to do this. I did not want..." She sighs. "You are my... friend. I did not wish to see you suffer, nor do I ever, contrary to popular belief."

_Friend_. Coming from Asarla, who trusts most everyone as far as she can throw them, that is tantamount to naming her firstborn after him. "Inquisitor..."

"No more! I've been too affectionate today, I can feel my iron resolve weakening. I'm going to go stab your soldiers, unless you wish to accompany me. I might stab you instead, if that is any incentive."

He stands up. "Good idea. I wish to test my abilities, and I will need a mage."

"Ugh. Mana Drain. " She shudders, ears drooping. "Alright then. I shall submit myself to your will, Commander, but just this once."

He decides not to comment, and follows her, blinking into the sun and smiling like the village idiot, ready to face a new day.


End file.
